Chapter 1
I guess I must have dozed off somewhere between 4:00 and 6:00 in the morning, because the incessant buzzing of my alarm clock definitely startled me, jump-starting my heart and helping to bring me slowly back into reality. After blinking a few times and rubbing the remaining sleep from my eyes, I reached over and turned off the blaring alarm. I struggled to sit up, and then groaned out loud, putting my face in my hands after noticing the amount of sunlight that was pouring through my window. I made a mental note to remind my mother, once again, that I needed some new curtains for my room. My original ones from home had gotten torn on the way over to California.
Forcing myself out of the safe confinement of my bed, I picked up my fuzzy white bathrobe, grabbed a pink fluffy towel from the linen closet and then went into my bathroom, closing the door behind me. If I was going to make a solid impression on the people at my new school, I knew that I would have to work hard at it. Pretending that everything was just fine and dandy in your life wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the world to do. I turned the shower water on full blast, waiting until it got warm enough for me to stand under it. While I waited, I took the time to relieve my bladder and brush my teeth.
Once I was fully in the shower, I immersed myself in the warm water as it dampened my thick blonde hair, making it cascade down my back. I lathered a shower puff with some cucumber melon shower gel and proceeded to rub the warm foam all over the contours of my body. When I was finished, I leaned back once more, allowing the water to eliminate any remaining traces of suds.
Once that was done, I poured a generous amount of cucumber melon shampoo into my right palm, and then proceeded to work it into my tresses while using both hands simultaneously. I made sure that I scrubbed the roots of my hair, and behind my ears. I turned myself around back towards the showerhead and rinsed out the remnants of shampoo from my hair.
Next, I had to use the cucumber melon conditioner. My hair was thick and wavy, and there was no way in heck that a comb, let alone a brush, was going to make it through my masses of snarls. The conditioner tended to make things go a lot more smoothly. I poured a generous helping into my palm and ran it through my hair. Once the remainder of the conditioner was washed out, I reached for my shaving cream and razor.
With the showerhead still running, I rubbed a decent amount of shaving cream onto the necessary areas that needed shaving. I carefully traced the curves and corners of my body, making sure to rid myself of any unwanted hair. I went through a final rinse off. Finally satisfied, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.
I took a moment to unfold my fluffy towel and dry myself off. I patted down the edges of my body, and eventually spent a great deal of time fussing with my hair so that I could get the towel placed on the top of my head. I darted back into my bedroom to look for what I wanted to wear for my first big day at my new school.
I finally decided to choose a white spaghetti strap tank top that fit my upper torso like a glove and a decent pair of blue jeans. They fit so that they hugged my hips and thighs just perfectly, but then billowed out past the knees. I found a pair of white chunky sandals to complete the look. After stepping back to check myself out in the mirror, I moved forward once more so that I could get started on my hair.
I eventually decided to make my hair wavier. I heated up my curling iron. While that was getting all set up, I went to work on my makeup. A soft pink lip gloss, a pale pink blush, and some eyeliner, mascara, and pale blue eyeshadow completed my look.
By now, the curling iron was warm enough. Carefully, so as not to burn myself, I went to work on making thick yet soft waves throughout my hair. It didn't look nearly as good as when my mother used to help me do it. Unfortunately, she was usually either sound asleep in the morning, coming off of a long, tiring, and stressful night shift at the hospital, or she had already left for work by the time everyone else in the house had woken up. Sometimes you just needed another set of hands to get the job done. But I did it anyways, the best way that I could possibly manage, considering the fact that my hands were probably shaking so much from being nervous.
Once the full look was complete, I stepped back to admire myself once more. I was proud of the hard work and effort that I had put in to getting ready for my big day. Fully satisfied, I turned on my heel and left my room to go downstairs for breakfast.
My father was just finishing flipping some pancakes and frying up some bacon when I took my place at the breakfast table, looking somewhat forlorn and unsure of myself. My dad never missed anything. Once he was finished, he turned off all of the appliances that he had been using, placed a steaming plate of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of me, and patted me on the shoulder.
"Nervous about your first day, huh?" he asked sympathetically.
"More like terrified," I admitted, my stomach beginning to churn suddenly as I looked down at the plate of food that had been set before more. I poked at the contents of it with my fork, pushing it around in order to make it look like I had actually eaten something. No such luck.
"Spencer, come on…you've got to eat something. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he said in a nasally voice, which meant that he was making fun of this whole concept in an attempt to get me to laugh. After realizing that I wasn't going to eat anything that had been set before me, he chose a different route.
"How about…toast? For those with weaker stomachs?" he asked, looking at me. Immediately, I piped up and tried to show him my fake, brave smile.
"Thanks Dad, that'd be great. Sorry about…" I started to say before my father put his hand up, instantly silencing me.
"It's more than okay," he tried to reassure me. "I understand. We're all the new kids today, remember?" he commented, nudging at my shoulder a little bit.
"Right," I said, taking a deep breath and biting into the buttered toast. I chewed a few times, and then swallowed with a sigh. My father was right. The toast did feel easier on my stomach. I picked up my glass of orange juice and took a few sips.
"Now I know that you said you wanted to buy a lunch today, but I made one for you, just this once…you know, in case the hamburger patties are green, or something like that," my father said with a smile before kissing the top of my forehead. "You'd better get going before you're late. You don't want to miss the bus on your first day of school.
Groaning inwardly, I picked up my backpack. Great Dad, like I'm not already nervous enough. Let's give me something more to worry about and get freaked out over. No biggie. After giving him a big hug, I walked bravely out the front door and down the street to where my bus stop was supposedly located.
As the sheet in the mail had promised, the bus driver arrived promptly at 7:10 am. All of the other kids who surrounded the bus stop were either too busy still trying to wake up this morning, or too busy talking to each other to even bother looking in my direction. That was more than fine with me. It only made the image that I'd promised myself to uphold to be that much easier. I even mustered up enough confidence to smile at the driver before choosing a seat somewhere in the middle of the bus.
The bus driver must've been a fan of country music, because it was playing through the speakers the entire way to school. Everything was going just fine until the bus drove over this huge pothole in the middle of the road, causing all of us to lurch forward. I'm not exactly sure if it was the bump in the road or my nerves that hadn't been fully calmed down yet that caused my sudden wave of nausea, but either way, I was instantly screwed. The contents of my stomach flooded out of my mouth and onto the floor, not to mention that some of it had gotten on me, of course. Just my luck.
Well, if I hadn't wanted to make a spectacle of myself before, I had certainly failed now. Every single kid that was riding on that bus with me wrinkled up their nose and made a disgusted face. A good handful of them even started laughing at me. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cool windowpane. There was nothing that I could do now until I actually got to school. I sat there, wishing desperately that a hole would open up from beneath me so that I could jump into it and disappear, becoming unnoticed once more.
Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be an option. The bus driver nicely reminded myself to check myself in with the nurse before heading off to homeroom at 7:30. I thanked him kindly, knowing full well that I wasn't going to follow through with his advice.
My mind was spinning as I walked up those big front steps to my new school. What was I going to do now? I certainly couldn't walk around school all day smelling like vomit. That was completely and totally out of the question. And then I remembered that I had my gym clothes in my backpack. Quickly locating a women's restroom, I stepped into a stall and stripped myself of my soaked garments. I even changed into my gym sneakers, just in case. I shoved the gross clothing into the bag that my gym clothes had been in, and just tossed them in the trash. There was no way in hell that I would be carrying that stuff around all day. I definitely wouldn't miss one outfit. I would get over it. And if I couldn't, then I would learn to…and fast.
Reemerging from the girls' bathroom, I tried to look as composed as I possibly could as I headed down the hallways of my new school, looking for my locker. I finally found it, and after trying to get the hang of my combination lock, fiddling with it about three or four times, I finally succeeded. I tossed everything that I didn't need into my locker, grabbed the few books that I did, and slammed the door shut, turning the lock once more. After glancing at my watch and noticing that I had less than five minutes to make it to homeroom, I sped off in what I hoped was the right direction.
I guess I must have actually been sprinting instead of walking, or just simply not watching where I was going, because I chose that moment to accidently collide with another girl who was walking in the opposite direction of me. I immediately felt remorse as soon as I slammed into her. It felt like a full body contact hit. I couldn't help but wince.
Great move, Carlin, I thought to myself with a groan.
I turned around to look at who I'd just collided with. When I looked, I had to hold back a gasp. Because standing before me was just about the cutest…well, cutest angry-looking girl that I'd ever seen before in my entire life.
She had caramel colored locks, and warm chocolate brown eyes. She was probably about three inches taller than me, and very slender yet shapely. At a closer look, she was wearing a form-fitting black wife beater that ended just above her belly button, and a pair of black jeans that were tight in the hips and the thighs, but after they passed the knees, they sort of bagged out. She was wearing a pair of black sandals on her feet as well.
Instantly, my face turned bright red with embarrassment at what I'd done. Well, probably from that and the fact that she was quite possibly the most attractive girl that I'd ever seen before in my entire life.
Oh right…did I happen to mention that I'm gay? And on a scale of 1-10, this chick had to be about a 15. At least.
"Walk much?" the girl sneered angrily. "God!" she exclaimed, clearly exasperated, and then noticed that her latte was now displayed all over her black short sleeve top and expelled over a portion of the school hallway's floor."Seriously…hello…what the hell are you staring at?
I swallowed the gigantic lump that had formed in my throat, forcing it down. "I…am…so…sorry," I sputtered helplessly. "I didn't mean to…shit…uhm...here," I stammered, retrieving some tissues from my purse. "Maybe these will help a bit." I moved forwards to her.
Instead of accepting, the girl just snatched the tissues out of my hand, her voice filled with rage. "God, I'm not retarded…I can do it myself!" she remarked, patting herself down without much success. "You know, that latte cost me about a good three bucks."
"I'm really sorry," I reiterated once more, like a broken record. "I guess I should have been more careful."
"Yeah, I guess you should've been!" the girl shot back with a decent amount of force.
"It was just an accident…I'll reimburse you for your coffee, and I'll give you the money for a new shirt if the stains don't come out of that one."
"In that case, the latte cost me five bucks," she said, studying me with growing distaste.
At this point, I really wasn't quite sure what to do. I was definitely going to be late for homeroom now, so I just pulled out a five-dollar bill and handed it over to her. "Let me know about your shirt," I said helpfully. "I'd be glad to get you a new one."
"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed unhappily. "Just stay the hell out of my way if you know what's good for you." with that, she spun around on her heel and walked off in the direction of her homeroom as the first bell of the day started to ring.
Shit. Now I'm officially late.
Still completely mortified, I rushed off helplessly, trying to find my classroom. It took me a good five minutes before I was finally sure that I was standing in front of the right door. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the doorknob and turned. All eyes turned to face me, including the teacher's, who was in the middle of taking attendance at the time. "Take a seat," she said in a slightly unwelcoming tone. "You're late." Yes, I wasn't mistaken. There was an extreme amount of displeasure in her voice.
"I'm sorry…" was basically all that I could muster out. "I…I'm new here and I got a little lost and…" my voice trailed off into the distance, realizing that it didn't really matter. There was no sense in pleasing this woman.
"No one cares," a voice piped up from the back of the classroom. "Just try not to trip over anyone while you try to find your way to your seat."
I sat down at my desk, even more embarrassed than I had been originally. How was it possible? Of all of the possible homerooms to be in, why did I have to be in one with the angry girl that I spilled coffee over? Why…just…why? With that, I folded my arms on top of my desk and buried my face into them. This day couldn't possibly get any worse…or could it?
When the bell sounded to end homeroom period, I took a quick glance at my schedule, noticing that I had a history class next. I walked off in what I believed to be the right direction. To my dismay, the girl that I had trampled earlier was only footsteps ahead.
Instantly, she caught on. She stopped and whirled around, nearly causing me to crash into her again.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, stalking me?" she asked, her eyes flashing with anger.
"No I uhm…actually, I think that my history class is down this hallway." I sputtered, not completely sure of how to respond to the tone of her voice.
"Are you sure?" she asked snottily. "Because you sure weren't headed in the right direction for homeroom this morning," she shot back.
I sighed, and trailed her down to the end of the hallway. "Mr. Pearson, Global History, Room 101," I stated, somewhat proud of myself. "Well, well….what do you know?" I shot her a knowing glance as I brushed passed her and walked into the classroom before she did.
Mr. Pearson introduced himself to our class, and went through the normal attendance routine. "I would like all of you to know that I seat all of my students alphabetically," he stated. He had all of us move to the back of the classroom and start filling in the rows of desks correctly this time so that he could make a seating chart that was suitable to his needs. It was now that I paid attention to the other girl's name…it was Ashley Davies. That being said, I couldn't really avoid it. Since I was Spencer Carlin, of course, fate had landed me right in the chair next to hers. This was going to be a long year in history class, I could tell already. Ashley looked just as displeased as I felt.
Things only got worse throughout the course of the day. All of the teacher here seemed to be big on alphabetical seating, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, Ashley appeared to be in all of my classes thus far. Needless to say, I was becoming very frustrated. And I was normally the type of girl who wasn't afraid to stick up for herself…so I couldn't understand why I wasn't able to do that now. Maybe the fact that she was so gorgeous was too intimidating for me.
I sighed, pondering my thoughts as I walked the halls looking somewhat like a little lost puppy dog, trying desperately to find the school cafeteria before the lunch period was over. Eventually, I took the hint of following the largest mass of students that I could find and follow them. Jesus Christ…maybe Ashley Davies is right…maybe I do have the potential to be a stalker!
So anyways, I found the right lunch line without much trouble, loaded up my tray with food, and then paid the cashier once I reached the front of the line. Being in the cafeteria made me feel like a more normal high school students. Maybe lunchtime was the same in every cafeteria, because everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly. Just a few nudges here and there from the students who wanted to cut in line, nothing too major, nothing uncommon. Picking up my tray and walking off, I felt more sure of myself, and a heck of a lot more calm than I originally had.
And then that's when I noticed it. As my eyes examined the sea of students in the lunchroom, I slowly began to realize that I wouldn't fit in here. Everyone else was already sitting with their friends, and there didn't appear to be any room for me to sit, except next to Ashley Davies, and I knew better than to make that mistake. If I can be so destructive of one latte, I can only imagine what could happen to her entire lunch. I was just about to throw out my tray of food (as it turns out, the hamburger patty actually was a very unattractive green color), when a voice called out to me.
"Hey!" it called out.
I turned around to face a slender African American girl. "Hi?" I said, stupidly.
"Do you want to sit down?" she asked me.
I shot her a grateful smile. "Thanks!" I said, tossing out my tray of food and coming over to sit down across from her, unloading my bagged lunch onto my tray.
"Not to be rude or anything, but are you a little lost? You seemed really out of it in math class earlier," she commented.
"I uhm…yeah, well I just moved here, and it's a new school for me. I don't know where anything is, and that girl that was seated to my left? Ashley Davies? I had a collision with her early this morning, so now she hates me."
"Don't take it personally, she basically makes it her mission to hate everyone," the girl replied with a genuine smile as my heart skipped a beat. Maybe I'd just made a new friend! One who…didn't hate my guts?
"Chelsea Lewis," she said, extending her right hand out to me.
"Spencer Carlin," I replied, more than happy to oblige.
"So where did you move here from?" she asked, suddenly all interested. I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat.
"Ohio," I supplied, hoping that she wouldn't ask too many questions. I'd wanted to stay away from bombardments like this. I wanted to leave the past in the past.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" she asked me.
I have an older brother," I told her, trying so hard to tell her as little as possible. Then I decided to turn the tables on her. "What about you?"
"Nope, I'm an only child," she said, suddenly waving someone over in the direction of our table. "Shawn…hey, Shawn!" she called out.
A tall African American male (Shawn?) started towards us. He paused for a moment, examining me before he took his place next to Chelsea at the table.
"Spencer, this is my boyfriend, Shawn. And Shawn, this is my friend Spencer, from math class."
My heart skipped a beat. Friend…she'd said friend! Awesome! "Hi," I told him, and he reiterated the same response.
From that point on, lunch was fun, as long as I knew just exactly how much to reveal to Chelsea, and how much to keep quiet about, because I didn't want to blow my cover. Once the period was over, she even pointed me in the direction of my next class.
And who was standing there just outside the door, waiting to be let in? Of course, it had to be Ashley Davies. The teacher must have been running late, because there was a crowd of people surrounding the door. Once the teacher had come by and let us in, she explained to us that she wanted us to seat ourselves in alphabetical order first, and then she would double-check by using the attendance sheet. She was doing this in an attempt to get us to actually talk to one another.
Without even saying a word, I immediately went and stood next to Ashley. "I'm glad you're finally starting to learn your place in this school," she cracked, a smirk coming across her face. My cheeks burned, and I didn't respond, looking straight ahead at the teacher the whole time.
Eventually, we all thought that we had ourselves situated correctly, and went to sit down in the desks that had been provided for us. After everyone had taken their seats, the teacher glanced over her attendance sheet, seeing if we were correct about the arrangements.
"Spencer Carlin?" she spoke up, and I winced. Of course I would have to be the one to mess something up, especially today. "You are supposed to be sitting between Bryan Barnes and Stephanie Clank, not next to Ashley Davies."
My face burned red with embarrassment. And if that wasn't enough, Ashley just had to speak up. "Yeah, God Spencer, why do you just keep assuming that you sit next to me? What, are you in love with me or something?" Another smirk flashed across that face of hers, only this time, I seriously wanted to punch it in.
I was completely mortified as I took my walk of shame over to my new seat. I sat down and listened to the science teacher start explaining about our first project that was due. She started off calling pairs of students to be partners, and I sat there in my seat, deadlocked, hoping that she would call out any name except…
"Spencer Carlin and…Ashley Davies," the teacher announced. I groaned inwardly. Great, just great. You mean that now I had to actually do a project with this girl? The teacher broke us up into our partners so that we could talk about what we were going to do, and how things were going to be set up…just the basic ideas for a framework.
"Listen," I said to her before she could even open her mouth. "I'll just do the entire project, and you can add your name to it at the end…its fine, I get it. Believe me, I don't want to work with you anymore than you want to work with me."
"Fine," was all she said as a response, clearly dumbfounded that I had actually dared to speak to her first, and had made somewhat of a success in shutting her up, leaving her speechless. "Whatever you say."
"That's what I thought," I shot back. Then I went back to my seat and actually managed to enjoy the remainder of science class.
Towards the end of the day, I noticed that there was a flyer for cheerleading tryouts posted outside of the girls' locker room. I'd been a cheerleader at my previous high school, and it was something that I thoroughly enjoyed, so I texted my father, telling him that I was going to be trying out, and that I would be a little late coming home.
I sat on the bleachers in the gymnasium after writing my name down on a list. I anxiously awaited my turn, somewhat nervous since I didn't really have a routine constructed. I watched girl after girl do cartwheels and splits, the works. Some of them were really good at it, and others just fell flat on their faces.
And then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and went to the front of the crowd. I did a series of arm movements, cartwheels, and splits. The girls who were judging actually looked pretty impressed, so I allowed myself to feel proud. Satisfied with the job that I had done, I took my place back on the bleachers. At the end of the meeting, the girls had come to their final decisions. My name wound up being one of the ones called to join the squad. My heart leapt with joy as I went up to retrieve a set of pompoms and a uniform.
After the tryouts were over, I went back to the girls' locker room and took a quick shower. Then I went outside to wait for the late bus. I was feeling pretty pumped about earning a spot on the squad. As I sat down on the bus, I told myself that this was something that had made my whole, horrible, miserable day worth it. I thought about this for awhile…until I realized that I was the only one left on the late bus, and that the driver was making his last stop.
"You're the last one, little lady," he commented. "Have a nice afternoon."
"You too," I told him, stepping out of the bus and onto the sidewalk. As he sped off, I looked around from side to side. I had absolutely no freaking clue as to where I was. I was officially lost. I must've taken the wrong late bus. At my old high school, there had only been one late bus. But I guess that with a student body of 4,000 students, I should've realized that they would need to be running more than just one late bus. I was mentally kicking myself in the ass and crying as I sat down on the curb, trying to figure out what to do.
Just then, a girl pulled up in this flashy red sports car. The wheels had spinners on them, and the top was down.
"Hey," a voice said. "What's wrong with you?"
I glanced up. Of course it had to be no one other than Ashley Davies. I should have figured, with my luck.
"Just go away," I pleaded with her. "I'm fine. I just got on the wrong bus. Just go home and don't worry about me." With that, I stood up, attempting to start walking in the direction of my house. I honestly didn't know what the hell I was doing.
"Spencer!" she called out, trailing slowly behind me. "Spencer Carlin, you get in this car right now! I'll take you home."
"Thanks, but no thanks," I scoffed, remembering how evil she'd been towards me all day.
"Spencer, come on…" she said, still following me. "Don't make me become the stalker now. Just get your ass in the car. I promise I won't bite."
"Yeah, well I have my doubts after this morning," I muttered, loudly enough so that she was able to hear my comment.
"You must be crazy if you think I'm leaving you in the middle of Los Angeles, California, totally and completely lost," Ashley said. Then she tried once more. "Spencer, just get in the damn car, for Christ's sakes, trailing you is damaging my wheels."
That woke me up. The last thing that I wanted to be doing was spending loads of money on new tires for this chick. So I relented, and when she came to a stop, I got into the car and sat down beside her in the passengers' seat.
"Now where do you live?" she asked me.
"On Main Street," I told her, and she started down the road.
"You know," she said after awhile. "I may be an ass, but I do my own share of the work whenever it's given to me. We could do the project together."
"It's fine," I said. "I know how you feel about me. I'm not a complete and total moron, you know. I understand the fact that you hate my guts. I'm not like, retarded or something."
"Fine!" she spat out angrily to me. "Do the damn thing yourself…and you really know how I feel about you? I just gave you a ride home in my Mustang convertible after finding out that you were the one who spewed all over a school bus this morning."
"The ride was nice," I tried to explain. This girl clearly had me at a loss. One minute she hated me, and the next, she was toying with my mind. Either way, I wasn't too sure that I liked it.
"Here, we're at your damn house…do you recognize it?" she asked, her face filling with rage.
"Ashley, I…thanks for the ride," I stammered. She made me even more nervous when she was pissed off beyond all belief.
"Just get out…" Ashley shot back. "Just get the hell out of my car!"
And I obliged. My father met me at the front door as Ashley sped away.
"So how was your first day at school?" he asked with curiosity. "Did you make any new friends?"
"Something like that," I muttered, before pushing past him to go upstairs to my room. "Just call me whenever dinner's ready."
Author's Note: Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks to all of my viewers thus far!